


Misaligned Match

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Professors, Matchmaking, Professor Neville Longbottom, Set It Up, Tag(line) you're it 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:35:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29638194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Boss too stressed? Taking it out on you?Why not set them up with someone to help alleviate their... frustrations.Pansy's pretty sure she's just worked out the perfect plan to get Professor Vector off her back and hopefully, to finally get a holiday in peace. Pansy just needs some help from Neville Longbottom to set her plan in motion, what could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson, Pomona Sprout/Septima Vector
Comments: 11
Kudos: 21
Collections: Tag(line) You're It! Competition





	Misaligned Match

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Tagline_Youre_It_Comp_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Tagline_Youre_It_Comp_2020) collection. 



> Written for Tag(line) You're It! 
> 
> Prompt: "Finding love takes some assistants." (Set It Up)

The teachers' lounge was quiet as Neville entered, the only sounds the scratching of quills from the small table nestled in the corner. Neville attempted to settle himself quietly at the cramped table, around which his peers hunched despite the long wooden table that occupied the remainder of the room. The larger table, around which all staff meetings for Hogwarts were conducted sat empty, waiting patiently for the fully qualified professors to arrive. The three other apprenticing professors all grumbled at Neville's interruption, something he didn't take in offence. Space was already cramped with the piles of scrolls and books with ink pots tilting precariously atop. 

Neville and the young adults that sat around him were forced to bump elbows on the impractically small table whilst scribbling notes and desperately attempting to absorb the weekly professors' meetings in the hope that one day, they too would be honoured by being invited to the grown-up's table.

"Oh, bollocks it all, Longbottom." Pansy Parkinson cursed under her breath as Neville jostled her, and ink spilt along the top of the scroll the witch was marking.

"Sorry." Neville grimaced.

With a slam of her quill and a further spattering of ink, which landed neatly on Hermione Granger's nose, Pansy let out an aggravated huff.

"This is ridiculous!" She snarled, "I've been marking all morning, and I'm not even halfway done."

She angrily rolled up the scroll and flicked her wand at a smear of ink on the table. It only partially disappeared, leaving a faint stain on the table and the witch's temper.

"How are we meant to get all this work done, teach half the bloody classes and complete our studies! We've examinations to study for, along with preparing students for their own. Aren't you all drowning in work?" Pansy looked around the table at the others.

Hermione looked up from her book and rubbed her nose, which caused the ink to spread. 

"No, I don't think so." She said, pulling out a colourful timetable from her bag. "It’s terribly important that we learn as much as possible if we are going to be proficient teachers. Professor McGonagall has given me some extra books to read on-”

“Forget it.” Pansy interrupted, “Of course, you wouldn’t think it’s too much work- you’re practically begging for more.”

“I am not.” Hermione huffed, retreating into her book, inked stained nose peeking out over the cover.

“Draco,” The table jostled as Pansy kicked the remaining member of their group. “What about you? Is Slughorn as bad as Vector?”

“ _Professor_ Vector.” Hermione’s muffed rhetoric came from behind her book.

Draco Malfoy, the final member of their strange apprenticing quartet, finally turned his head back to the table.

“No.” He drawled, “Slughorn has already forgotten more about potions than he has taught me this year. He barely even shows up to class anymore.”

Hermione gave a squawk of indignation and glared at Draco whilst Pansy snorted with laughter.

“You have ink on your nose, did you know?” Draco smirked at Hermione, who turned a deep red but closed her mouth, preventing the tirade of scolding that was no doubt on the tip of her tongue.

“What about you, Longbottom?” Pansy finally turned to Neville.

No longer the nervous boy from their school years, Neville still found himself blushing a deep red when Pansy spoke to him directly. He didn’t know what it was about her, possibly the confident and imperturbable manner in which she conducted herself. Perhaps the way her short black bob haircut sliced through the air, a sharp emphasis on everything she said. Or it could have been the way her red lipstick made her lips stand out on her pale face. Or the way her bright blue eyes focused so exactly, narrowing slightly when her mind was set.

“I-uh, well, I suppose...” Neville said, ignoring the pointed look Hermione was shooting him. “Yes, it’s a lot. Professor Sprout is giving me more and more work, and there never seems time to fit in all the extra study they want us to do.”

“Neville,” Hermione hissed, “I made you a timetable.”

Pansy’s lips turned up into a smile as she looked at Neville. Something about the way her eyes twinkled mischievously told him he had just made both a grave mistake and opened an exhilarating new opportunity.

Hermione was admonishing him whilst waving her colourful timetable around, but Neville barely listened; he was captivated by the way Pansy pursed her lips and began tapping her manicured nails against her cheek.

“Granger, you’ve filled that thing so full you’ve barely got time to sleep.” Malfoy snatched the timetable from the table. “When are you meant to eat? When are you meant to shag?”

Hermione choked on her words as she stared at Draco. Pansy’s eyes blinked, looking at them. Again, her lips curled upwards, and she muttered,

“Brilliant. That’s exactly what we need.”

* * *

Pansy leant back in her chair, observing the meeting in its slow monotony. Hermione, sitting next to her, was scribbling frantically whilst Draco leant over periodically to correct something she had written, which only annoyed her further. Pansy couldn’t help but roll her eyes at them.

Ridiculous.

Months at the school and they were still oblivious to their affections. Pansy, on the other hand, had seen it develop the moment they had arrived, both too scared of their past to acknowledge that they were itching to shag the others' brains out.

Shagging. Pansy smiled to herself again. Of course, sex was the answer.

When was it not?

Pansy needed a break. Not from sex.

No, from the workload that Vector lumped on her. The woman was positively archaic, and since the beginning of term, she had been getting progressively more and more waspish. Pansy wasn’t sure she would survive if something didn’t change Vector’s mood. 

And perhaps Pansy had figured out how to do just that.

Draco was right; a lack of sex made you a stuffy workaholic. Hermione was living proof of that.

If Pansy could only get Vector some stress relief, then perhaps Pansy could enjoy her Christmas holidays.

It wouldn’t be easy. There were only a few weeks left in the term.

Pansy bit her lip softly as she assessed her options, all sitting dully around the table. There was no time to find a suitable option outside of Hogwarts, and Vector hardly left the grounds, so Pansy would have no choice but to set her up with one of their fellow professors.

It was slim pickings, Pansy realised as she went through the list.

Slughorn? No, he was already snoring through the meeting; he’d never be capable of wooing a witch like Vector.

Hagrid? No, too hairy. Vector did not approve of facial hair in any way, shape or form.

Flitwick? No, Pansy shuddered; she’d seen too many fights between the professors. They sat as far apart on the table now, Flitwick by McGonagall and Vector down the end by Sprout.

_Sprout_.

Pansy turned her head slightly, inspecting Professor Sprout and how the woman leant closer to Vector and whispered something in her ear. Vector’s cheeks coloured somewhat, and Pansy sat up straighter in her chair.

How had she been so blind?

Pansy continued to observe them through the arduous meeting, and plans formulated rapidly as she noticed the small touches, the curled lips and secretive glances between the witches.

How had she missed it before? It was too perfect.

* * *

“Longbottom.”

Neville was yanked by the scruff and pulled behind a corner.

“Parkinson?”

Pansy was red-cheeked and grinning, a look he didn’t find reassuring on the Slytherin’s face.

“I’ve figured it out.”

Neville looked around them, confused by her attention. The teachers' lounge was now empty, and professors wandered back to their quarters. Only Hermione remained, looking around confused at Neville’s sudden disappearance.

“Oi.” Pansy prodded him. “Are you listening? I figured out a solution to our problems.”

“What problems?” Neville asked, utterly astounded.

“You said Sprout has been piling work on you, correct?”

“Yes.” Neville answered slowly, “She’s been rather stressed lately, wants me to take on more of the classes.”

“But you’ve barely the time to finish your current load, and all our study we’re meant to be doing?” Pansy didn’t wait for Neville to answer, “Vector’s the same. She’s been getting worse all term, but I think I’ve found a solution for the both of us.”

Pansy shoved a piece of paper towards him. Taking it dubiously, Neville saw it was the notice about the Yule Ball, a newly revived tradition that had been a focus of their meeting.

“Uh,” Neville scratched his chin, feeling the shadow of stubble bristling against his fingers. “Parkinson, sorry, you’re going to have to elaborate.”

Pansy sighed,

“We need something that will distract them, Vector and Sprout. Something relaxing if you get my gist.”

“I doubt chaperoning the ball will be relaxing.”

“No.” Pansy gave an exasperated sigh. “We’re going to distract them with _each other_. Have you ever seen two people hopelessly in love? They’re totally absorbed in their little world. If we can set up Vector and Sprout, then they’ll be too distracted and hopefully too busy shagging to nag us with more work.”

Neville slowly raised an eyebrow.

Professor Vector and Sprout?

He supposed they were close. They were always waiting for the other to be finished at the last class of the day. He’d seen them at Hogsmeade together too, sharing pints of butterbeer with red faces.

Maybe Pansy was onto something. The witch was looking at him impatiently. Clearly, her mind had already raced through the possibilities he was thinking about.

“Do you need a demonstration?” Pansy cocked an eyebrow before pointing down the corridor.

Hermione was still there, only now she was talking animatedly with her hands whilst Draco smirked down at her. Arguing, Neville realised; they were arguing again.

“Completely besotted, yes?” Pansy pointed at the pair.

Neville shrugged; even he hadn’t missed that.

“Cast your Patronus.”

“What, why?”

“Just do it, Longbottom.” Pansy said, “Send it down past them.”

Neville flicked his wand silently, and his small red panda Patronus appeared. With another motion, it silently flew down the hall.

Neither Hermione nor Draco flinched. They continued on- Hermione now jabbing a finger to Draco’s chest whilst he laughed and grabbed at her hand. They both stopped, not because they noticed the Patronus, but to stare at Draco, holding Hermione’s hand.

Pansy rolled her eyes as the two of them parted and stormed off.

“See, in their own little world.”

“Right.” Neville said, “So uh, are we trying to set up Draco and Hermione or the professors?”

“Sprout and Vector, obviously.” Pansy waved a hand down the hall, “Those idiots will work it out sooner or later.”

Neville nodded slowly, still a little lost.

“So, you’re in?”

“I think so…” Neville looked at Pansy, a wicked grin already reappearing on her face. “Do you have a plan, or are we just winging this?”

Pansy snorted,

“Longbottom, please, don’t underestimate me. Of course, I have a plan.”

* * *

Class had just finished, and Neville was assisting Professor Sprout with some spiky bush trimmings when he finally found the confidence to initiate Pansy’s plan. She’d been nagging him for two days to talk to Sprout whilst she was busy working on ensuring everything else ran smoothly for them.

“Uh,” Neville cleared his throat awkwardly. “Professor, I was wondering…”

“Yes, dear?”

“Well, some of the apprentice professors were talking to Professor McGonagall and uh, we suggested that perhaps, possibly, the professors of the school could lead the first dance at the Yule Ball.”

Sprout paused for a moment as she wrestled the bush into submission.

“Us?”

“Yes,” Neville grabbed a spikey thorn that threatened to lodge in Sprout's hand. “but McGonagall said we needed to speak to the rest of the professors.”

It had been Pansy who had convinced McGonagall, and she reported daily to Neville about her persuasion of the remaining teachers.

“Well dear, I don’t see why not… if everyone else has said yes.” Sprout shrugged, “Though I shan’t be dancing with Filch.”

Neville nearly leapt for joy. It was the exact thing he’d needed her to say.

“Actually, I was hoping…” Neville cleared his throat, nervously, “that you wouldn’t mind attending with Professor Vector.”

Sprouts eyes went a little rounder, and she licked her lips nervously.

“Vector?” She asked, “What makes you think we…. Why do you ask that?”

Neville tried racking his brain, Pansy had given him a list, but he was horrid with remembering things like that.

“Well, uh, because McGonagall will be dancing with Hagrid. Slughorn has agreed to dance with Trelawney. Hooch has to leave early, but she said she could dance with Flitwick as he also has to conduct the band. Binns has refused to dance. And, um, Sinistra with uh, Professor…” Neville sputtered out, forgetting exactly who Pansy had manipulated into going with who. “Anyway, the only people currently without partners are Filch, Madame Pomfrey, Vector and yourself.”

Sprout considered for a moment,

“Well, if it must be so, then yes, I suppose I could dance with Septima.” Professor Sprout turned, but Neville swore she was grinning as she said, “Better than with Filch anyhow.”

* * *

“Well?” Pansy strolled into the greenhouse.

Neville grinned, rather proud of himself for his accomplishments,

“It worked.” He said, “Sprout will take Vector to the ball.”

“Brilliant.” Pansy smiled, “I never doubted you for a minute, Longbottom.”

“Did you convince Pomfrey to dance with Filch?”

Pansy wrinkled her nose,

“Yes, she was furious, but I managed to placate her with a few boxes of sugar quills.”

Neville laughed,

“Placating with sweets instead of blackmail? Doesn’t sound very Slytherin of you.”

Pansy shrugged, coming to stand across from him and pulling on a pair of dragonhide gloves.

“Tricking your mentor into a date just to get out of work, Longbottom? Doesn’t sound very Gryffindor of you.”

Neville handed Pansy a cutting off the small fern he was working with as she prepared a pot.

“Perhaps you’re a bad influence. That’s very Slytherin of you.”

Pansy used her wand to part the soil, placing the cutting gently into the pot and covering it.

“Well, everyone knows I’m as Slytherin as they come. If the war proved anything, it’s that I’m always looking after my hide first. Good old selfish Slytherins.”

Neville looked up. Pansy’s smile had faltered, her tone bitter and resentful. She looked down at her cutting and watered it delicately.

“Sorry.” She muttered, “I don’t know where that came from.”

“I don’t think that.” Neville said, “You’re a lot of things, Pansy, but you are not selfish. I’ve seen your work here for months now; you’re probably the best teacher of all of us. The only thing the war taught us was that we were all children, dealing with something far beyond our grasp. I hardly think it’s fair to let our seventeen-year-old selves define who we are now.”

Pansy looked up; blue eyes rounded as she took in his words. Neville hadn’t meant to say that much, but he couldn’t help it. Pansy’s eyes were wet, Neville realised. She turned away for a moment and passed a hand under her nose.

“Just don’t ever tell Hermione I said you’re a better teacher,” Neville tried to lighten the mood. “She’d murder me if I told her she was second-best at anything.”

Pansy laughed, a short bark as she wiped an eye and turned back to him.

“Your secrets are safe with me, Longbottom.”

“Thanks.” He handed her another fern, “And um, you can call me Neville.”

“Alright, Neville.”

“By the way,” Neville shifted, “Whilst you were pairing up all the professors, did you happen to think about who we’re meant to dance with?”

Pansy gave him a grin,

“Is that your way of asking me to the ball?”

Neville tried to mimic her grin; its wicked intent curled in the corner of her lips.

“Yes, actually. It was.”

* * *

“You’ve done it now.” Draco was reading something at the table, sulking with his glasses halfway down his nose. “Surely one ball with me was enough, Pans.”

Pansy blinked at her friend; he threw the paper towards her. Another teacher’s announcement. Pansy’s lips curled into a victorious smile as she read the news. Teachers would be leading the dance; everyone was to find partners. Not that they needed to, Pansy had it organised.

“I’m not going to the dance with you, Draco.” Pansy laughed, “Sorry.”

Draco looked up, affronted by yet more bad news.

“What?” He wrinkled his nose, “You expect me to go on my bloody own? Or do you suggest McGonagall?”

Pansy shrugged,

“If McGonagall’s your type. Or you could just ask Granger.”

Draco’s eyes widened, and he looked stricken for a moment.

“Granger?”

“Sure.” Pansy said with a sly grin, “Asking her to the dance would probably be a good place to start if you ever intend to get the guts to admit your feelings to her.”

“I don’t- that’s not...” Draco huffed dramatically, shifting himself in the chair and coughing nervously as the door creaked open and their Gryffindor counterparts arrived.

“Longbottom,” Pansy waved the paper in the air, “hope you have your dancing shoes ready; we’re leading the Yule ball.”

“Leading?” Neville’s face lit up as if he didn’t already know, and bless his heart; Pansy thought he looked excited to have been roped into dancing with her. “Brilliant.”

Since their conversation in the greenhouse, she had to admit she’d found herself a little fonder of the wizard than she’d expected.

“What’s going on?” Hermione tried to spy on the paper in Neville’s hand.

“Teachers are being forced to dance at the Yule Ball,” Draco grumbled from their table. “Those two are scheming something, and now _we_ have to go to the ball together.”

“What?” Hermione’s voice squeaked; she looked back and forth between Neville and Pansy. “Sorry, you two are going to the ball… together?”

Pansy tried to keep the scowl off her face, but to her surprise, Neville was the one to clear his throat and reply.

“Yes.” He said, straightening his back. “I asked Pansy to the ball with me. Is that a problem?”

“Um,” Hermione hesitated, “no. No, not at all. I hope you two have a good time.”

Pansy glanced at Neville and gave him a small smile. He returned it and gestured for Pansy to sit first.

Maybe she could get used to the chivalrous side of the Gryffindor.

“Wait, hold on,” Hermione was now looking down at Draco, who was busy pretending she didn’t exist, “did you mean _we_ are going to the ball together?”

“Of course, Granger. Unless you’d like to attend with Filch, I doubt he has a date.”

“I- but… we’re…” Hermione's mouth worked in the air whilst Pansy rolled her eyes over the table at Draco. “Al… alright.”

Pansy shook her head. That had not been what she meant when she suggested Draco ask Hermione to the ball. Stubborn arse, she thought as she saw the smallest flicker of a smile on his lips.

* * *

“You look beautiful tonight.”

Pansy's face was surprised as she looked up at him. Neville found himself looking away, wondering if he had overstepped their friendship when she whispered back,

“Thank you. You look rather handsome too.”

Pansy was wearing a long deep forest green dress that represented her house and also brought out her eyes. Neville likewise wore his house colours, deep red robes with black trim. They were far more elegant than the robes he’d worn for his first Yule ball.

Past them twirled Draco and Hermione, both giving the other death stares as they fought for the lead. They looked good together, despite the murderous looks they exchanged.

“Are they getting along?” Pansy whispered in Neville’s ear as they spun around the dance floor.

“No.” Neville laughed.

“What?” Pansy hissed, trying to turn in his arms and look across the pairs of professors leading the first dance of the evening.

Students crowded around, some cheering and others laughing at the sight of their teachers dancing together.

“Oh, sorry,” Neville muttered when he realised Pansy was looking in the opposite direction. He twisted his head to see Sprout giggling as the Arithmancy teacher twirled her. “Yes, they look very happy together.”

Pansy sighed in relief. She’d done most of the planning, going so far as to offer to draw up the schedule for the evening. Sprout and Vector had rounds together for the beginning of the evening, and she had even shown Neville the early finish she’d given them.

Neville was still somewhat dubious of the plan. Surely setting up their two greatest annoyances wouldn’t instantly result in their workload decreasing. Yet, it had given him the chance to meet with Pansy several times that week, and he’d marvelled over her ability to scheme.

* * *

“What have you done?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Draco muttered, skulking around at the back of the hall.

The first dance completed; Pansy was now stuck doing her actual duties as a professor. Mostly ensuring none of the students got too frisky with each other or attempted to sneak anything into the punch.

“Right.” Pansy snapped, “So that wasn’t Granger I just saw fleeing the Hall looking more distressed than the actual teenagers in the room.”

“Possibly.”

“Draco,” Pansy sighed and grabbed him by the scruff of his collar. “Go after her and tell her how you feel.”

“I don’t-”

“You do.” Pansy was shoving him towards the door now, “Everyone can see it except her, now tell the witch you’re pathetically in love with her and terrified you’ll never be worthy of her.”

Draco’s eyes went wide as he tried to stammer out a rebuttal, but Pansy waved him away.

“Is everything ok here, Professor Parkinson?”

Pansy turned to smile at her mentor.

“Of course, Professor Vector. Just some rumours about the students sneaking off to the prefect’s bathroom, I’ve sent Professor Malfoy to head them off.”

“And Professor Granger too?”

“Uh, yes. Seemed for the best.” Pansy’s second lie being far less smooth than the first.

“Mmm-hmm.”

Pansy knew it might be her only chance that night to ensure her plan worked. She cleared her throat and tried to sound casual.

“I was doing some calculations earlier tonight.”

“Oh,” Vector seemed only semi-interested, her eyes wandering across the ballroom. “About the work I set you last week?”

“No, actually. I was looking at this evening’s… potential.”

Pansy watched the way Vector's eyes settled on the teachers' table, where Sprout was talking animatedly with McGonagall.

“My calculations showed tonight has a statistically significant trend towards the positive developments of relationships.”

“Mmm. Very good, dear.” Vector mumbled.

“Likely,” Pansy continued, “should someone, with an inclination towards another someone, wish to engage in a new endeavour with said preferred someone, tonight would, in fact, be an ideal tonight to propose such a union.”

It wasn’t her smoothest delivery, but unfortunately, Pansy couldn’t grab Vector by the scruff and throw her towards Sprout as she had done with Draco.

“That’s interesting.” Vector gave her a very curt smile and said, “I’m sorry, dear, I just remembered I need to discuss something with Professor Sprout.”

Pansy smiled, even though the teacher was already walking away from her.

* * *

“Pansy.” Neville snuck up behind the witch, beckoning her away from guarding the refreshments table.

The ball was winding down now; only a few brave souls still lingered on the dancefloor whilst Hagrid nodded along, taking the final shift.

“They’re gone.” Neville said excitedly, “I saw them heading down to the courtyard.”

Pansy glanced around, realising she’d missed Vector and Sprout’s departure whilst she was scolding an intoxicated Ravenclaw.

She couldn’t help but beam,

“Let’s go.”

Together Neville and Pansy snuck from the ball and crept down the long corridor.

It was dark in the castle now, and as Neville fell behind, Pansy reached back to grab his hand and drag him along. It wasn’t until they came to the entrance of the school that they heard noises.

“Hermione,” Draco’s voice was barely audible.

Neville ran into Pansy’s back as she stopped, leaning around the corner to see what was happening.

“What is it?” Neville was so close; his chest pressed to her side that for a moment, Pansy forgot what she was meant to be looking at.

Neville leaned around Pansy as he tried to see. Just as they both peaked their head around Hermione’s voice replied to Draco’s mumbling,

“Oh, just kiss me, you daft idiot.”

Both Neville and Pansy pulled back, hiding as they heard the distinct noise of lips connecting. Neville was still so close to her that when he tried to meet Pansy’s eye, she had to tilt her head back to see his face.

“Do you think we should give them detention? Sneaking around the halls like this?”

Pansy gave a breathy laugh, still aware of her hand in his and the firm grip he kept as he led her away.

“Come one. I think Sprout went this way.”

Pansy nodded, trying to concentrate on the right couple they’d been setting up.

* * *

The courtyard was cold as Neville led Pansy behind a large shrub, her small hand warm in his. He’d been shocked when she’d grabbed it, pleasantly so, and now he found he didn’t want to let go.

A charmed harp played in the courtyard as they snuck around the wall toward the source.

Neville tried to stop the laugh that attempted to bubble from his throat when they found what they were looking for.

Draco and Hermione were not the only staff members to be engaging in potentially inappropriate acts that night.

“Oh, Merlin,” Pansy whispered beside him.

“It worked.”

In front of them, lit by the moonlight, danced professors’ Sprout and Vector. Nothing could be mistaken about the way the women held each other, the way they looked into the other's eyes as they twirled in circular motions.

“Of course, it worked.” Pansy was bouncing excitedly next to him, “It was my plan.”

“You’re a marvel, Pansy.”

Pansy blushed at him then her mouth dropped open as she pointed through the dense bushes that hid them.

“Oh, gods, look!”

Vector has stopped dancing, and she held Sprout’s face in her hands and slowly Neville and Pansy watched, mouths agape in their astonishing success, as the two witches kissed passionately.

Pansy squealed in delight, pumping her arms in the air before flinging them over Neville’s shoulders and, to his shock, pressing her lips against his. Neville’s cold lips seemed to thaw under the witches, her cherry flavoured lips mingling against his own as he grunted in surprise.

Then they were gone, replaced by the shocked face of Pansy.

“I’m so sorry.” Pansy blushed a deeper red than Neville would have ever predicted the proud Slytherin could go. “I shouldn’t have-”

Neville didn’t know what drove him, like pulling out the sword of Gryffindor, he reacted on instinct. He stepped forward, one hand curving gently behind Pansy’s head and kissed her deeply before she could finish the sentence.

The tense rigidity left her body as arms wrapped around Neville once more, this time with Pansy giving the softest moan Neville had ever heard or desired. She was soft and warm against him, and Neville found his hands slowly coming to rest on Pansy's hips, drawing her to him instinctively as his lips moved against hers.

Slowly, as their lips stilled and they broke the kiss, both to-be-professors stared at each other. There was a long moment of silence as they simply held each other, savouring the moment.

“Shall we go back inside?” Neville asked softly, breaking the silence.

“Inside?” Pansy blinked as if forgetting there was an inside.

“To the ball.” Neville’s thumb drew a small circle on Pansy’s hip. The witch drew closer to him. “I think I’d like a proper dance with my date.”

Pansy’s cheeks grew pink again, and Neville knew he would forever crave the look. Something about the sweetness, the innocence of her surprise caught Neville off guard, to see her so vulnerable when he was so accustomed to the fierce, proud witch. It was a side of her he wanted to know more.

“A… proper date?” Pansy lifted her eyes slowly, looking at Neville.

“Yes,” Neville said confidently, unsure where the feeling had come from. “If you wouldn’t be opposed?”

“I...” Pansy looked away briefly and then back to Neville. “I’d love to.”

“Then a proper date it is.” Neville released Pansy’s hip, taking her hand in his and leading her back towards the castle.

* * *

Still outside, the night’s stars shone down on the remaining couple, twirling contently where Neville and Pansy had left them.

“Pomona, darling,” Septima Vector smiled fondly as the two women danced through a patch of moonlight. “Happy anniversary.”

Pomona Sprout smiled broadly back; her round face illuminated in the moonlight. She gently placed her lips against her partners once more.

“Happy anniversary, my dear. I can’t believe it’s been ten years already.”

The two twirled under the stars, snowdrifts magically fluttering by them in the quiet night air until finally they came to a stop and wandered arm in arm back towards the castle.

“Septima, love,” Pomona asked, “Have you noticed the young professors acting oddly lately?”

“Oddly?” Septima tilted her head in consideration. “Well, now that you mention it, yes. Miss Parkinson has been rather distracted of late.”

“Poor Neville has been the same, asking terribly odd questions.” Pomona nodded solemnly, “I think, my dear, it would be best if we gave them some time off these holidays, or, at least, decreased their workload a little.”

Septima sighed; she was the hard-line to Pomona’s softer nature.

“Very well, my darling, but only because I love you.” 


End file.
